


remind me every ten years

by ShowMeAHero



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anniversary, Big Dick Richie Tozier, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, M/M, Marriage, Married Couple, Married Sex, Rimming, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: On Monday, May 17th, 2004, the first legal same-sex marriage was performed in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The two women who got married that morning were the first same-sex couple out of dozens who got married that day in Cambridge City Hall.When Eddie saw the article, he called Richie at home so he could be the first to tell him, and Richie cried for nearly ten minutes.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 31
Kudos: 402





	remind me every ten years

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous c*mmissioner!

On Thursday, May 19th, 1994, the seniors of Derry High School graduated in their auditorium, a class of about three hundred students. Among those students were Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak, who went out to the Kissing Bridge together immediately afterwards. Richie had confessed his feelings, his hands in his pockets as he showed Eddie their initials carved into the bridge. Eddie had pulled Richie three steps down the bridge and showed him the  _ R _ he had carved in a heart years earlier before confessing his feelings, too. Eddie had kissed Richie first.

* * *

On Tuesday, June 7th, 1994, Richie impulsively asked Eddie to marry him. They had both been panicking for weeks about what would happen when they had to separate and go to college. They were scared of being trapped, but terrified of getting lost, and Richie had asked Eddie if maybe they could just— get married and run away together. Eddie had asked if he could think about it overnight, then called Richie’s house within a half an hour of getting dropped off at his mom’s house and said yes anyways. He didn’t need to think about it, really.

* * *

On Sunday, June 19th, 1994, Richie and Eddie got married. Well, they got “married.” What they actually did is drove down to Boston with the other Losers and  _ legally entered a domestic partnership,  _ or whatever the hell homophobic legal jargon they fed them at the time that said  _ you are less than us, but we’ll so graciously let you have this. _ Eddie tells people they got married, regardless. He says that’s their wedding anniversary. They wear wedding rings. They refer to each other as  _ “my husband.”  _ It’s enough, Eddie tells himself, because he doesn’t think they’ll ever get anything more.

* * *

On Friday, August 12th, 1994, the Losers all get out of Derry. Richie and Eddie leave together and drive back down to Boston, and they move into a shitty apartment together. They work multiple jobs between the two of them and put themselves through school. They adopt a dog in 1995, a son in 1998, and a daughter in 1999. They’re a happy family. Eddie doesn’t remember Derry, not really, but he knows he’s glad that he and Richie got out when they did, and that they had each other.

* * *

On Monday, May 17th, 2004, the first legal same-sex marriage was performed in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The two women who got married that morning were the first same-sex couple out of dozens who got married that day in Cambridge City Hall. When Eddie saw the article, he called Richie at home so he could be the first to tell him, and Richie cried for nearly ten minutes.

* * *

On Friday, May 28th, 2004, Eddie proposed to Richie, after much thought. Richie, confused, had reminded Eddie they were  _ already  _ married, and Eddie had reminded  _ him _ that they could actually,  _ legally _ get married now. Richie had proceeded to cry for nearly half an hour, this time, starting all over again every time he stopped, while Eddie held him and tried not to laugh at him. Richie smacked at his arm, but he said yes anyways.

* * *

On Saturday, June 19th, 2004, Richie and Eddie got married, again. This time, their marriage was even legal. They had a big wedding in Boston and invited the Losers back to attend. Their son Logan was only six, and more than willing to be their ring bearer, and their daughter Hannah was just four, and needed to be lured down the aisle as their flower girl when she forgot what she was doing, but it’s the best day of Eddie’s life. Now, when he calls Richie his husband, he’s telling the entire truth.

* * *

On Sunday, June 20th, 2004, Eddie’s getting out of the backseat of their taxi while Richie’s hoisting their bags up out of the trunk outside Logan Airport. Eddie’s got his passport clutched in one hand as he helps drag one of their suitcases up onto the curb. He doesn’t know where they’re going, which makes his skin itch, but Richie has assured him again and again that he has absolutely nothing to worry about.

The thing is, Eddie  _ always  _ plans their trips.  _ Always.  _ He’s just better at it. He thinks of things that Richie doesn’t, and he’s better at organizing, and he’s good at comparing hotels and cars and flights and all that. Richie, however, had spent the last three months planning their honeymoon for them both as a wedding present, or so he told Eddie. Stan and Patty are watching the kids, and Eddie knows they’re leaving the country, and Richie said they’ll be back the night of July 2nd before Bill and Mike’s Fourth of July cookout that Sunday.

Besides that, though? Eddie doesn’t know anything. Richie had asked Eddie to make a list of everything he needed and had packed for them, so Eddie didn’t even see what clothes he had. Richie had told Eddie how much he wanted to do this, how badly he wanted to give Eddie the honeymoon he wanted to give him and couldn’t back when they were still eighteen. He’d had a whole thing planned, he’d said, and now he’s a successful comedian and Eddie’s a successful risk analyst. They both have good jobs and money saved up and there was no reason not to agree, and so Eddie had. There’s not much he’ll say no to, though,  _ really,  _ when it comes to Richie.

“There we go,” Richie says, clapping his hands together as he drops their second suitcase next to the first, beside Eddie. He hoists his carry-on up on his shoulder and kisses Eddie on the cheek. The taxi pulls away as Richie says, “Excited?”

“I’d be more excited if you’d tell me where we’re going,” Eddie answers. Richie just rolls his eyes and grabs the suitcase handle with his other hand, leading Eddie through the airport. Eddie’s been trying to get any information out of him for weeks, and Richie’s almost cracked multiple times, but he hasn’t let anything slip. Eddie’s both impressed that Richie’s pulled this off and annoyed that Richie has chosen  _ now  _ to successfully keep a secret, in all their years together.

“Where’s the fun in that, Spaghetti Man?” Richie asks him. When they’ve checked their bags and gone through security, all there is to do is wait. Eddie gets nervous on airplanes, and one of the very few pieces of information Richie gave him is that their flight is long as shit, so he takes his Xanax once he’s on the plane and sleeps through most of it.

* * *

All this is just to say that, on Monday, June 21st, 2004, Richie and Eddie land at the Santorini International Airport to start their honeymoon. Eddie looks out the window of their airplane and listens to the pilot announce their arrival in Greece as he stares out, wide-eyed, over an endless sea of water.

_ “Greece?”  _ Eddie asks incredulously. Richie looks nervous as he pulls their carry-on bags out from the overhead compartments for them.

“Did I choose wrong?” Richie asks, rather than giving any sort of answer. “Are you not allowed in Greece? Are you a spy? Because—”

“Richie,” Eddie says, and Richie stops. “You did  _ not  _ choose wrong. This— Like, holy  _ shit,  _ Richie, this place looks  _ beautiful,  _ where the fuck— Where did you even get this idea?”

Richie’s face flushes pink as he slings both their bags over his own shoulder. “I just— I don’t know, I thought you’d like it. It seemed relaxing and you need to  _ relax.” _

“You’re hilarious,” Eddie tells him dryly. Richie takes his hand and kisses the back of it once they’re off the plane and in the airport. It’s not a big place, and their bags are already on the carousel by the time they get to baggage claim. Instead of heading for the shuttle stop afterwards, Richie guides them towards the rental cars, where he finds out that Richie’s rented them a Spider. He tosses Eddie the keys, and Eddie just says, “No.”

“Yup,” Richie says. He hefts their bags up into the backseat of the coolest fucking car Eddie’s ever seen. He used to have a picture cut out of a magazine of one of these taped up on his childhood bedroom wall. Eddie just stares at the sleek side of the convertible, the black paint still so shiny it reflects their vague outlines back at them.

“Is this a ‘71?” Eddie asks. Richie makes an appreciative noise as he hops in the passenger side.

“Good eye,” Richie says. He motions, and Eddie slowly opens the door and gets in the driver’s seat of the convertible. “It’s the 2000 Veloce from ‘71.”

Eddie knew it, and says, “Jesus Christ.” When he starts the car, though, it rumbles underneath them like it’s still brand-new instead of over thirty years old. He glances towards the passenger seat before he actually starts driving, and Richie takes the opportunity to cup Eddie’s face between his hands and kiss him over the center console.

“I love you,” Richie says.

“Happy anniversary,” Eddie replies, and Richie grins, delighted, leaning back in the passenger seat again. Eddie actually does peel out, finally, and leaves the airport’s rental car garage to zip out into the daylight.

Richie doesn’t unbuckle himself, but he does lean up so the wind slaps him in the face as the convertible whips around the corner. Eddie glances at him nervously, but Richie’s grasping the windshield, so he looks back to the road. Richie whoops into the wind, delighted, and Eddie just smiles as he drives along the winding strip of road that lines the coast.

“Where am I going?” Eddie asks, after a couple of minutes of Richie keeping his head out of the car like a dog, letting the wind whip his hair back and smack at his prescription sunglasses so hard he has to hold them in place.

“Oh, right,” Richie says. He sits down properly and pulls his phone out, then taps an address into his GPS and holds it up for Eddie to see.

Eddie doesn’t know any Greek at all, unless knowing the names of all the gods and mythological characters counts as knowing Greek, since he does know  _ all  _ of those. So, the words  _ Peratzatha Santorini  _ mean nothing to him, but that’s evidently their destination. He’s pretty sure the island they’re on  _ is  _ Santorini, but  _ Peratzatha  _ means nothing to him.

“What’s that mean?” Eddie asks. Richie shrugs.

“Take a left,” he says, and Eddie does. “I don’t know. I speak French, not Greek. Another left.”

Eddie takes the left, then says, “I mean, where are we going?”

“Right,” Richie says.

“What?”

“Go right,” he clarifies, and then says, “It’s our hotel.”

The island’s not overly large, as it turns out, and so, as Richie says this, Eddie turns the right corner and they’re met with a view of the ocean. Eddie has to turn right again, carefully, but then they’re edging into a parking area. When he parks the car and steps out, he just has to look to his right to see the hotel itself. It’s only late morning, here, so the place is bathed in white-blue sunlight, glinting off the water.

The hotel itself is a series of small structures in stone, brick, and clay as pale as the hills they’re baked right into. Richie pushes his sunglasses back up his nose before hoisting their bags out of the car. Eddie’s transfixed on the hotel.

“What d’you think?” Richie asks. He drops their bags down beside Eddie and throws his arm around his shoulders, looking the place over as the sun drips down the ends of his hair. It’s intoxicating. Between that and the jet lag, Eddie’s dizzy.

“I think I need a fucking nap,” Eddie tells him. Richie just laughs, hauling him in to kiss on the top of his head. Eddie nearly hides his smile, then changes his mind, turning his head and tipping his chin up so he can grin happily up at Richie. Richie looks just as joyful-dumb as he does, and they share a shitty kiss, since they can’t stop smiling.

* * *

Their key unlocks a sun-blue door set into the hillside. Eddie’s intention is to beeline directly to the bed, as soon as he finds it, but once he steps inside, he realizes he  _ can’t  _ find it. The place is  _ huge,  _ and Eddie stops just inside the doorway, staring. Richie maneuvers around him, tossing their suitcases aside and throwing his arms open as he turns to face Eddie, grinning like a lunatic.

“Ta-da!” he exclaims proudly. He takes Eddie by the wrist, leading him through the airy bungalow. The high white ceilings were splashed with colorful art, and the bleached furniture all looked comfortable, but Richie just drags him through the place to a glass door. He slides it open and pulls Eddie outside to look over the ocean.

“Holy fucking shit, Richie,” Eddie breathes, looking over the view. It’s still only just past noon, so the blazing sun is still making everything brightly white high above their heads, but the way it shines off the water from here is beautiful. He covers his eyes with his hands and squints at the small pool and patio furniture on their little stone yard, outside the doors.

“Do you like it?” Richie asks, when Eddie hasn’t spoken for a full minute. Eddie pulls his eyes away from the horizon to look at Richie instead. He looks nervous, even though he’s smiling; he’s expectant, waiting to be excited until he knows Eddie’s happy. Eddie can’t help but torment him for another moment, glancing back towards the water, but Richie just whines. “Eddie, come  _ on—” _

“I’m really impressed,” Eddie says. Richie’s shoulders relax, and he laughs, ruffling his own hair. “Why am I always the one organizing things?  _ You  _ should be the one—”

_ “Hell  _ no,” Richie interrupts him, before Eddie can get any further. He throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and looks back out at the sea with him. “I’ve been having a stroke since I started planning this. I’m not good at compartmentalizing. Next time, you’re helping me.”

“Deal,” Eddie says. Richie’s cheek rests against the top of his head for a moment as they watch the water, the calm waves slowly lapping over each other in a lazy race towards a shore somewhere far below them. The breeze is light in the warm air and, when it picks up again, Richie lifts his head to kiss Eddie’s temple.

“Are you tired?” Richie asks. Eddie lifts one shoulder, and so Richie continues with, “Because I didn’t plan anything for today, so we can do whatever we—”

He doesn’t get to finish, because Eddie turns and pulls Richie’s face down with a firm hand on his jaw and other at the back of his head, guiding him into a hard kiss. Richie smiles, briefly, before Eddie’s hands slide down to hold his hips in place. He rolls up into him, the half-hard line of him dragging against Richie’s thigh.

“We can do that,” Richie murmurs against Eddie’s lips. Eddie just smiles back, tugging Richie backwards through the glass doors.

Their bungalow isn’t just one room, and it’s not even really a suite — it’s like a little apartment, sort of, or a condo made of brick and clay. It takes them a minute of searching to find the door that leads to their bedroom, but once Eddie finds it, he’s shoving it in and dragging Richie in after him, letting Richie blanket him over the bed.

The salty air clings to Richie’s skin, and Eddie can taste it when he bites the knob of Richie’s jaw, the sea-brine mingled rich with sweat. Richie groans into Eddie’s collarbone, ducking his head and tearing their clothes off so he can wrap his hand around them both. He only draws back to pull a packet of lube from his discarded pants pocket and shake it out like a sugar packet.

“You’re a child,” Eddie huffs, chest heaving. Richie smacks a kiss on his cheek before tearing the lube open. He squeezes half of it over his fingers and reaches down between them, slipping one finger into Eddie so he can gently scissor him open. Eddie’s still tired from their journey and pliant from the heat and dizzy with excitement, and so he relaxes easier than normal, one hand coming up to cling to Richie’s upper arm as he adds his second finger.

“There you go,” Richie says. He drops his head, mouthing along Eddie’s throat, up to his ear, nosing along the shell of it. Eddie twists into him, breath catching. “There— You good?”

“Mm,” Eddie assures him, letting his head fall to the side so he can make eye contact with Richie, even as he tries to keep his breathing even. It’s a losing battle. “Don’t— Don’t stop, keep—”

Richie doesn’t need to be told twice, and he twists his wrist, searching with the pads of his fingers until he finds what he’s looking for. All the air punches out of Eddie’s chest as Richie’s fingertips brush his prostate, making his back arch up off the bed as he tries to push down into Richie, his hand tightening over his arm.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie gasps. Richie drops his head to kiss the line of his jaw again, biting into the soft flesh underneath the line of bone. His long fingers work Eddie open centimeter by centimeter, until he can’t do anything but drop his head back into the pillows and make sure he doesn’t accidentally stop breathing.

When Richie pulls his fingers out, Eddie’s head snaps up, brow already furrowing as he prepares to complain. Richie barely even gives him a chance, shushing him and catching the back of his head in his hand to guide him back down to the pillows. He pushes Eddie’s thighs apart and settles between them, pushing three fingers into Eddie’s hole, now, working him open with determination.

Eddie looks up at him to see Richie staring hard between them, his brow furrowed slightly as his glasses slip to the end of his nose. He’s got curls plastered to his face with sweat, but his focus is all on opening Eddie up with all his concentration. He’s so intensely focused that Eddie huffs a weak laugh, which just draws Richie’s eyes up, even though he barely lifts his head as he raises an eyebrow at Eddie, their eyes meeting.

“You look so— so serious,” Eddie manages. Richie looks like he literally bites his tongue for a moment before he shifts upwards, leaning in to kiss Eddie softly on the cheek.

“I take you  _ very  _ seriously,” Richie tells him. The solemn look on his face lasts all of three seconds before he’s smiling again, unable to hold it back for long. He kisses the corner of Eddie’s mouth, then kisses him properly, licking in through the seam of his lips as he slips his hand free.

Eddie shivers at the emptiness, then at the chill, when Richie lifts himself up and off of him. It only lasts for a moment, because then Richie’s squeezing the last of the lube inside the packet into his slick hand. He uses it to coat himself, a slippery shine over his enormous cock. Eddie can only stare down as he waits.

“You sure you’re ready?” Richie asks, because he  _ always  _ asks. “Do you need me to open you up more, or—”

“I’m sure I’m ready, I’m sure,” Eddie tells him, breathless, frantic to have anything inside him and desperate for it to be Richie. Richie takes him at his word, grips Eddie’s hip in one hand and lines himself up with the other.

They’ve done this countless times, but Eddie still clings to Richie the entire way in. He takes him tight by the shoulders and draws his forehead to Richie’s, gasping as Richie pushes his way in inch by inch. He’s huge, but Eddie  _ loves  _ it, loves the slow burn of him filling him up, and it feels like Richie’s filled him to the back of his throat when he finally bottoms out. Eddie inhales sharp, deep, then exhales slow.

“Are you okay?” Richie asks, sounding punched-out in his own right. Eddie shifts, readjusting with his elbows underneath himself. The slightest wrong move makes Richie nudge just slightly against his prostate, and Eddie’s arms give, sending him collapsing back into the pillows. “Eds—”

“I’m good, I’m good, move,” Eddie tells him. Richie hesitates, but then Eddie opens his eyes again and drags Richie’s face in, kissing him hard, even as the corner of Richie’s glasses digs into his cheek.

When they separate again, Richie just nuzzles his face into Eddie’s throat and braces himself against the headboard with one hand, gripping the frame with white knuckles as his left hand tenderly cups Eddie’s face. His hand is so large it spans the line of his jaw and the length of his neck, curling up under his chin; Eddie just leans into the hold, kissing near Richie’s wrist as Richie fucks into him.

Richie’s hold on the headboard keeps him from slamming Eddie too hard, but his head still knocks backwards enough that he needs to reach up himself and press his palm flat to the frame, keeping himself still so Richie doesn’t accidentally knock him out. As it is, on each hard thrust in, the headboard smacks into the wall. Eddie’s grateful that it seemed like nobody staying in this place has any neighbors.

In the next moment, Richie finds his prostate again, and Eddie stops giving a shit about coherent thought, or neighbors, or anything except Richie’s cock inside him and his body blanketing him. Richie lifts his head and takes his glasses off, since they keep threatening to fall off his face onto Eddie’s, and this just gives him easier access to Eddie’s throat.

He licks down the glistening sweat clinging to the column of his neck until he’s at the dip of his collarbone, and Eddie shivers when his tongue dips in there. His own cock is almost painfully hard; he keeps trying to push  _ up, _ to roll his hips and thrust his throbbing cock against Richie’s flesh, but Richie keeps pinning him back down.

“Trust me,” Richie tells him, when he has to do it again. Eddie starts to protest, but Richie kisses him again, then says, “I got you, Eds. I’m good at planning now, remember?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. He smiles, but he’s distracted fast by Richie kissing him, coaxing his mouth open slow, sweet, cupping his face and holding his hip as he quickened his pace, chasing his climax as Eddie just clings to him. Richie’s rhythm falters, and then he’s kissing Eddie bruisingly hard. His hips stutter, and he moans Eddie’s name into his mouth before he cums inside him, gathering him close and holding him tight as he does.

“I love you,” Richie manages to tell him. Eddie’s still aching, neglected and hard and leaking between them, but he turns Richie’s face with a gentle hand and kisses him anyways.

“I love you, too,” Eddie says quietly. “Now, focus—”

Richie laughs softly, shifting to pull out of Eddie and sit back. Eddie protests weakly at the feeling of Richie slipping out, leaving him empty as Richie’s cum leaks out of him, but then Richie’s taking him by the hips and flipping him over.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asks. Richie drops his head, licking a long line up the inside of Eddie’s thigh before he pushes his knees up onto the bed and spreads them apart.

“Is this okay?” Richie asks instead of an answer, kissing up to the curve of Eddie’s ass before he spreads his cheeks apart with his thumbs and licks into his loose hole. Eddie’s forehead falls into the hotel pillows, still neatly tucked into crisp pillowcases, even though they’ve been knocked out of alignment against the headboard.

“Fuck, of course it’s okay,” Eddie tells him. It’s hot and dirty and, better, something Richie saves for when he’s really trying to take Eddie apart, and the knowledge that Richie’s trying to make this special for him is almost enough to push him over the edge on its own. Ultimately, though, that’s Richie’s tongue inside of him, eating his own cum out of his husband’s asshole, and the thought of it in such stark terms makes Eddie whimper, inhaling sharply as he digs his face into the mattress. He eats him out like that, licking his cum from Eddie’s hole, over the hot and sensitive muscles, the tight velvet skin. Eddie shudders.

Richie doesn’t take pity on him, and so Eddie cums untouched, the heat building until the tension was so deliciously tight Eddie wanted to sob, every muscle in his body pulled like a bowstring. Then, he snaps, coming so hard he has to slam his eyes shut, his head staticky as his body buzzes. Richie relents, finally, dragging his tongue along the inside of Eddie as he pulls away.

Eddie braces himself, but Richie doesn’t leave him completely. Instead, he coaxes Eddie onto his side, then leans over him and pulls him into a kiss. It should be gross, but they realized years ago that Eddie loves kissing Richie after he eats him out. Richie cradles his jaw, opening his mouth and tipping his head to deepen the kiss briefly before he finally separates them.

He guides Eddie back down to the top of the bed, then rolls over himself, the two of them sprawled out on their backs. Eddie, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, drags his head up to look over the room.

“Jesus, this bed’s huge,” Eddie comments. Richie hums, rubbing at his face and yawning. “Did you—”

“No questions,” Richie tells him, reaching out blindly to haul him back in. “Sleeping now.”

“Wh—”

“Sleeping now,” Richie repeats, kissing Eddie on the cheek. Eddie huffs, lightly tugging, but he doesn’t try too hard. Richie smiles, his eyes still sleepily closed, and so Eddie resolves to settle in for just a few minutes before he gets them a washcloth to clean them off.

* * *

Their first day is pretty lazy, since it’s lost in the haze of jet-lagged sleeping and unhurried sex, neither one straying far from the other until the sun’s up the next day. Eddie had intended to go outside for the sunset last night, but they’d been distracted and missed it, so he makes it a point to set up outside for sunrise.

Richie says he’ll join him, but Eddie’s out there for a while on his own. The ocean is nearly invisible in the blackness, dimly lit by the crescent moon and the dotted stars in the clear skies above them. Eddie can hear more than see the gently lapping waves and the distant chirps of nighttime creatures nearby.

He curls up in the corner of the comfortable loveseat overlooking the sea, one of the sheets from the bed wrapped around him to ward off the light chill in the heated summer air. A breeze ruffles him a bit as he yawns. He thinks back to when he was eighteen and not twenty-eight, what their honeymoon might’ve been like if they’d had it the first time, when they were still just dumb teenagers figuring shit out by fucking it up first.

It’s not hard, when he’s half-asleep and alone in the dark like this, to pull up memories of them when they were younger. It’s easier than anything to remember the way Richie had grown into his gangling limbs and knobby joints, until he’s been tall and broad and anxious, hunched in on himself on the Kissing Bridge, showing Eddie their initials like he’d done something wrong. It seems like a lifetime ago and still no time at all, between that day and now.

Richie breaks his train of thought by sliding open the glass door, yawning loudly as he drags himself over to the loveseat and collapses beside Eddie. Everything is a production with him, but Eddie enjoys it, when he’s in a good mood. He leans into Richie’s side, letting his head fall on his shoulder as he keeps looking out over the dark horizon. At least, where he assumes the horizon to be. The darkness makes it impossible to tell for sure.

“Where do you think we would’ve gone for a honeymoon if we went the first time?” Eddie asks. Richie runs his hand absently down Eddie’s bare back through his sheet, fingertips bumping over the knobs of his spine.

“I know I was a hard advocate for Disney World,” Richie reminds him.

“Seriously, though,” Eddie says.

“Seriously,” Richie says. “I thought it was a bitchin’ idea. They’ve got that place that’s like, all those countries in one. It’d be like a world tour.”

“You’re trailer trash,” Eddie tells him. Richie kisses his cheek, then grins and kisses Eddie’s dimples when he smiles, too. “Pay attention, the sun’s coming up, that’s the whole reason we’re— Richie, look at the  _ sun—” _

It takes a moment, but Eddie does manage to pull Richie off so they can watch the sun come up. The view is fucking breathtaking, and even Richie doesn’t do anything but inhale sharply as the sun crests the horizon and the sky lights up with hot orange and brilliant pinks, bathing them in so much heavy warmth that Eddie can only sigh. He sinks deeper into the loveseat and lets Richie drape over him like a second blanket.

“‘S’nice,” Richie mumbles. Eddie kisses the top of his head, pulling him in so his ear is pressed over Eddie’s heart, and they sleep there like that until the sun’s creeping closer towards the center of the sky.

As it turns out, Richie hasn’t just planned for them to be complete jet-lagged messes the entire time they’re there. He has an entire list of things for them to do and activities he has booked for them, and the second day is a food tour in the late afternoon through the evening.

“You’re such a fucking snob, I thought you’d love it,” Richie tells him, digging through his bag for the brochure he’s brought. He won’t let Eddie see the other ones and spoil whatever other surprises he has planned, but he forks over the one for the food tour so Eddie can read every miniscule detail about it before they go. They know each other too well, Eddie thinks sometimes, watching Richie then run and jump into the pool outside the glass doors of their suite.

Richie drives them, this time, winding along the coastal roads with one arm resting in his open window and the other lazily stretched over the wheel. Once, early in the ride, he tosses a huge lazy smile at Eddie, and Eddie’s got it stuck in his head for the rest of the drive.

They start in another cliffside town. The first leg of the tour is all walking, and Richie keeps their hands wound together. He packed well for their clothes, and they’re both in shorts and tank tops, even though Richie’s got one of his gaudy Hawaiian shirts thrown over the top like the dumbass tourist he is.

Eddie listens to their guide talk, and he nods and asks questions, but he’s mostly focused on Richie. He thinks about when he  _ used  _ to think about this. It’s amazing to him, sometimes, that they’re allowed to have this.

Richie catches him staring, looking down at him with an understanding smile on his face. When their guide is turned away, pointing up at the facade of a building to explain some minor architectural detail, Richie ducks his head down and cups Eddie’s face in his hands, kissing him sweet and slow. Eddie just leans up into him, bowing against him as his hands tangle up in Richie’s shirt.

Richie draws back first, catching his breath. Eddie just stares up at him through their sunglasses as Richie licks his lips and swallows.

Their guide pulls their attention back, and Richie drags his eyes away from Eddie to drape his arm across his shoulders and follow along the path.

Though Eddie fundamentally disagrees with Richie’s assertion that he’s a food snob, he does enjoy trying new foods, especially after all the years he was forced to eat the same shit over and over, thinking he was allergic to things he wasn’t actually allergic to.

They stop at a bar, first, and Richie gets them two glasses of local raki. He hooks their elbows together and tugs Eddie in so they can take their drinks tangled together.

“Three,” Richie counts down, eyes locked with Eddie’s, “two, one—”

They both knock their drinks back at the same time, and Richie laughs as Eddie gasps, nearly choking on a hard cough. Richie hauls him in and pounds him on the back, still laughing as he orders a glass of water from the bar for Eddie. The next place gives them saganaki, which Richie is delighted to discover is just fried cheese and pastry and honey, and the place after that has moussaka. They both love souvlaki, and Eddie likes spanakopita more than Richie does. He spends the time Eddie spends on spanakopita on wine, instead.

Eddie’s not sure how their guide does it, because he doesn’t feel rushed, but they get to their last stop just as the sun’s going down. It’s a sweet little bakery, down a side alley and surrounded by a little white fence. Eddie claims a table in the front window for them while Richie goes up to the counter to order for them.

When he comes back, he’s got cups in one arm and a line of small dishes on the other, grinning as he spreads his arms to show Eddie.

“Can’t take the waiter out of the starving artist,” Richie says. Eddie just takes two of the plates before Richie can drop any of them. “Look, we’ve got— There’s espresso for us, gelato in those dishes there, and  _ these—”  _ Richie says, motioning to the plates Eddie took, “are wedding cake cupcakes.”

Eddie looks down at them, at the delicate white spirals of chocolate on the tops of them, and, stupidly, feels the back of his nose prickle. He sets the plates down and looks out the window over the ocean view outside.

Richie doesn’t say anything, for a beat, as he takes the seat beside Eddie, across from him at the tiny table. He leans his elbow on the tabletop and drops his chin into his hand, looking Eddie over. “I love you, you know.”

Eddie glances at him, leaning across the table himself to kiss him. Richie smiles into it before pulling back. He manages to dab a glob of frosting onto Eddie’s nose.

“Oh, you son of a—” Eddie spits, shoving him away and swatting at his face. Richie reels him back in with a hand wrapped up in his shirt, kissing him on the nose before he licks the frosting off. Eddie shoves him away again.

The windows are open, and a breeze slides across their faces as they share dessert together. Richie takes one of the small spoons up to feed Eddie gelato with a grin on his face. The spoon is so comically tiny in his hand that Eddie can’t help but smile, too.

On the walk back to their car, Richie looks over their shoulder, then tugs Eddie down another alley. There’s nobody outside but them, just now, but the street lamps are on and the strung lights above them illuminate Richie’s face, when he looks down and cups Eddie’s face to kiss him. Eddie feels strange to do it, but he keeps his eyes open, even when Richie closes his. He just wants to look at him for a little while longer.

* * *

On the fifth day, Richie has a hike planned for them. They decide to take their time, and so the hike-turned-stroll takes them six leisurely hours. At the top of the first hill, Richie tugs Eddie in by the strap of his fanny pack, pulling him in for a deep kiss as the sea breeze sends Richie’s hair swirling around their faces.

The contrast of the pristine white town set into the deep forest green of the cliffs is stunning, and they stop in at a blue-domed church just to sightsee before they head back on their path. Richie takes pictures of Eddie in front of everything, even if he’s not paying attention. It only takes half an hour before Eddie’s drawing the camera out of Richie’s hand and turning it so they’re both in the pictures.

Church bells ring over their heads as they walk through the cities of Santorini all day, the sun flushing their faces with heat. Eddie keeps reapplying sunscreen on them, but Richie’s cheeks and nose burn anyways, because they always do. He can’t help but fuss over him as they get to Skaros Rock.

“Eds, look at that,” Richie tells him. Eddie turns to look out over the water, and Richie catches him about the waist, wrapping his arms around him and hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie just leans his head into Richie’s, their temples pushing together.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. Richie twists to smush their cheeks together before he kisses Eddie and withdraws.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Richie says, taking him by the hand and tugging him further down the path. The stone starts to twist and turn like a maze along the cliffside, dotted with colorful and exotic flowers like an oceanic garden. Richie pretends he’s on a balance beam and nearly gives Eddie a heart attack, but it’s nice, on the whole.

They walk through a small town, all blues and whites, warm hands tangled together. Richie delights in pointing out anything and everything that catches his eye, from pastries in shop windows to clouds he thinks look like different dinosaurs. They sit on a bench along the beach for a while, just leaning in to each other. There haven’t been many chances to do this at all in recent years, between their jobs and their kids always demanding their attention. Eddie loves their lives, he does, but he loves Richie, too.

Richie kisses the back of his hand, after a while. Eddie knows there’s only so long he can sit still before he’s up and moving again, and they start the walk back to their hotel again.

The next day is spent almost entirely in bed, the both of them exhausted from the amount of walking they’d done the day before, but the seventh day sees them migrating out of the bedroom and into their bathroom, where they have an unnecessarily large, long,  _ deep  _ bathtub. Richie strips his clothes off while Eddie runs the water and the jets in the tub, filling the room with a thick steam and a hot haze.

Richie drapes himself along Eddie’s back, pushing his nose into his throat and kissing up behind his ear, smiling there with his face buried in Eddie’s soft hair, curling in the humidity. Eddie just leans back into him, lets Richie pull his clothes off. They carefully set themselves up in the bathtub, Richie tucked into the curved corner with Eddie’s back against his chest. Richie cups water in his hands and pours it over Eddie’s head, slicking his hair back, kissing the crown of his head.

Eddie forgets, sometimes, how much he loves Richie. He knows it logically, and feels it all the time, even when he’s pissed off and frustrated and annoyed. It’s an underlying truth, a hum in his blood that’s always been there, a bond that’ll never go away.

That being said, it’s easy to forget  _ just  _ how much he loves him. The drag of Richie’s big hand up his belly and over his chest, slick with water as he cups Eddie’s face, taking his chin between his fingers to tilt his head back for another  _ long,  _ slow kiss — Eddie can’t help but shiver, even though the water’s steaming hot and roiling with the jets around them.

“I love you, too,” Richie murmurs. His glasses are all fogged up, when Eddie tips his head back to look at him properly, and it just makes him laugh as he tugs them off for him. He leaves them folded on the edge of the tub before he kneels between Richie’s legs. Eddie takes Richie’s face in his hands, smoothing his wet thumbs over his cheeks in trickling trails before he ducks in to kiss him again. The hot water splashes up over them both as he does.

They’re recovered enough by the eighth day for more sightseeing, and Richie lets Eddie drive while he gives directions out to Akrotiri. He stands up in the car, yanked taut by the seat belt as he tries to see the ruins over the windshield frame of their convertible. It’s not until they’re actually inside that they can see everything, but Richie’s visibly excited.

Richie, for all his lack of focus and immense amounts of energy, has always been incredibly smart, and he loves history. He reads each of the informational displays aloud to Eddie and explains context and jargon to him as they walk hand-in-hand down the roped pathways of the ancient town. Richie gets teary-eyed over an urn they see, reading the story behind the artwork carved and painted into its sides, and Eddie kisses him on the cheek until he laughs, instead.

* * *

The next day they visit Pyrgos. It’s a hilltop city, and Richie playfully complains the whole walk up, but he’s pleasant enough when they’re actually walking through Pyrgos. The day after that, they take a wine tour, and the tenth day, Richie takes him on a cruise.

“It’s a sailing tour,” Richie tells him, handing the brochure over so Eddie can look through it. He got them up early, because the boat leaves at nine, and they won’t be getting back until late that night.

Richie takes them down to the Vlychada Marina, leaving him on the dock to find their boat and captain. Eddie leans hesitantly over the edge of a dock, watching the shimmering turquoise ocean slosh underneath him, tossing up waves of sea-green. Richie’s hand on his shoulder doesn’t startle him.

“This is Sacha,” Richie says, introducing him to their captain. They shake hands, then Richie turns to Sacha and says, too fast for Eddie, “Mon mari, Eddie. Nous visitons de Boston.”

Eddie frowns at him. “What did—”

“He speaks French, too,” Richie tells him. “Lucky I uselessly learned that one first,  _ fuck _ my French-Canadian mom, because otherwise I’d never have remembered.”

Eddie lets Richie hold his hand and keep him steady as he steps off the dock onto the boat. He turns back and hoists Eddie up with an arm around his thighs, ignoring Eddie’s shout when he hauls him off his feet and drops him down in the boat.

It’s a nice boat, and there aren’t any other passengers except them. Sacha leaves them alone the entire time, stopping now and then along the shoreline. Their first stop is Red Beach, with vermilion sands and fiery rocks making up the cliffside backdrop. Richie tries to dive off the boat, but he slips and falls backwards instead.

He comes up, spluttering and laughing, missing his glasses, and Eddie has to dive in after him to find them. The water’s nearly purple, a deep mix of the reflected blue sky and the shimmering red sands; Richie dunks his head underwater before Sacha calls them back to the boat. They sit on the back of the boat, legs dangling over the side.

“This is the stern,” Eddie tells him. Richie pats the boat, water dripping off the ends of his hair and splattering against his glasses.

“Howdy, Howie,” Richie says. Eddie shoves at him, then grabs him by the shoulder before he can fall into the water. The salt sprays into their faces as Richie drops his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and watches the water fly by under them.

Sacha directs them past the lighthouse of Chania, just for the view. Richie leans into him, his wet hair tickling Eddie’s cheekbone before he turns to kiss him, smiling into his mouth as he tilts his head and draws them closer together. Eddie feels like he’s on  _ fire. _

They stop next at a tiny island. Eddie misses the name of it, because it’s lost somewhere in a flurry of French between Richie and Sacha, but he dives over the side of the boat with Richie on his heels all the same. There’s nobody on the shore, and Sacha stays on the boat, so Richie tugs Eddie up onto the sand.

“It’s like we’re stranded on a deserted island,” Richie tells him excitedly. He finds two semi-large leaves and drags them together in a fort too small for even Hannah to fit inside, then presents it to Eddie. “See, I’m a good husband. I made you a house.”

“I’m not sure we’re gonna be able to get this place insured,” Eddie comments. Richie pulls Eddie in by the drawstring of his bathing suit and smiles down at him, their noses only a few centimeters apart. The sun is shining down on them, a cloud passing in front of it and casting them in shade just for a moment before the light is back, casting Richie’s sun-pink face in gold.

“Hey there,” Richie says. Eddie feels warm, warmer than the sun’s made him on its own, and he leans up on the balls of his feet to kiss Richie again.

Richie ends up shaking out the leaves and making them a little picnic blanket out of them. The two of them dry off in the sun together, sprawled on their backs in the leaves and the sand. Richie keeps his head on Eddie’s chest, curling hair drying under Eddie’s chin.

When Sacha calls them back again, it’s late afternoon, the sun starting to sink back down towards the horizon again. Eddie shakes out his tired limbs and yawns, the sun-baked feeling flaking off his skin as they head back towards the water. Richie shivers, then dives in, racing Eddie back to the boat and accepting the hand up when Eddie beats him there.

Sacha takes them next to the volcano, and they pull walking shoes on so they can hike up to the top. The molten-black sand at the summit makes a harsh line between the land and the crystal-blue sea beyond. Eddie tips his head back and inhales deeply, eyes closed, taking in ash and salt and sky.

Their camera snaps, and Eddie turns to see Richie taking a picture of him. He reaches out, and Richie catches his hand, tangling their fingers together and drawing him in. Eddie takes the camera and turns it towards them, snapping a picture. Richie turns his face gently, smiling at him before he kisses him, and Eddie takes another picture.

As a reward for walking, Eddie supposes, Richie’s made their next stop the hot springs, and they climb off the boat again into the bath-hot water. They swim together to an outcropping, almost like a bench underwater. Richie pulls Eddie down to kiss him, seated there on the rocks. The hot water laps up and over them the entire time.

The day is exhausting, on the whole, but they’re back on board and heading for the marina again by sunset. Richie bundles Eddie up in one of the huge towels he finds below deck, ruffling his hair and his shoulders with it before wrapping him up in it and sitting him on the bench at the stern. He drops below deck again.

He tosses another towel up, then a couple of blankets. After a moment, he reemerges with a bottle of wine. With a grin, he pulls the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, then takes a swig straight from the mouth.

“You’re classless,” Eddie tells him, smiling. Richie scoops up his towel and drops it across his shoulders, shaking his hair out before passing the wine over. Eddie sips from the bottle himself as Richie dries himself, then pulls the blankets over to bundle them both up together.

They share the bottle of wine together between them like they used to do in high school, when Richie would steal a bottle of wine from his parents’ cupboards and they’d go out to the edges of town in his beat-up old truck. They used to sit in the bed of it, trading the wine back and forth and talking about everything they’d do someday when they were out of Derry. Eddie hadn’t said it then, but he’d always hoped he’d still be with Richie.

Now, he can rest his head on Richie’s shoulder, tipping his head up to say, “I love you.”

Richie takes another drink from the wine bottle, then passes it over. Eddie’s drinking from it when Richie says, “I love you, too. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I should trust you more often,” Eddie replies, grinning. Richie just hums a little, doesn’t laugh. Eddie tangles their fingers together; after a beat, he kisses the underside of Richie’s jaw. Out here, on the ocean, they can see more stars than Eddie’s seen before in his life. There’s a hazy ribbon of pink scrolling lazily across the inky indigo-blackness of the sky; otherwise, it’s millions and millions of twinkling stars, stretching beyond the edges of the galaxy. The moon is nearly full, now, and illuminates Richie’s face when Eddie turns to look at him.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, without even thinking. It just slips past his lips the second he feels it. Richie turns to look down at Eddie, smiling wide. The moonlight reflects off the water onto his face, sending pale sparkles of light shining across his face, catching at the edges of his glasses. As the burning-orange sun finally drops below the line of the horizon completely and leaves them in moonlit darkness, Eddie tucks himself firmly under Richie’s arm and just watches his profile against the night sky.

The journey back to their hotel is lazy, sleepy, and they fall tiredly into bed together with Eddie tucked up under Richie’s chin, now. Richie holds him close and buries his nose in his hair.

“Thank you,” Richie murmurs. Eddie huffs a laugh.

_ “You  _ planned this entire thing, Richie,” Eddie reminds him. “I should be thanking  _ you.” _

Richie’s quiet, for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, even though he inhales like he’s about to, but then he stops. It takes a minute before he says, “This… This is my way of thanking you.”

“For what?” Eddie asks. Richie shrugs. “Rich.”

“For everything, I guess,” Richie tells him. “I’ve been— I don’t know. Thinking about things, I guessed, since you asked me to marry you. Again. And I just— I think about what my life would’ve been like without you, and I hate the thought of it, Eds. I wanted to do this trip for you to— to have that time with you again, I guess. And show you how much I love you. Because I still do, all the time. I wish I could thank you like this all the time, because you deserve it, because you make me— you make me so fucking happy, and you’re such a good husband and a good dad and I—” Richie’s voice finally breaks, and he says, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie says. His voice cracks, too; the backs of his eyes prickle, and he sniffs, but it just makes it all start up even quicker. He turns his face into Richie’s chest and blinks, letting the tears spill down over his cheeks. “Jesus, Rich, is being a crybaby fucking contagious?”

“You would’ve caught it a long time ago if it was,” Richie says, actively crying now. He buries his face in Eddie’s hair completely, holding him close. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie tells him. “Don’t be sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for. You also don’t have anything to thank me for, but if you’re thanking me for being a good husband and a good dad, then I should be thanking you. I couldn’t do any of this without you, Richie, I hope you know that.”

“You could—”

“I couldn’t,” Eddie says seriously. It means a lot to him, that Richie knows how much he means this. “You helped me become the best version of me, Richie.”

“Same,” Richie tells him tearfully. Eddie huffs a small laugh and shifts up to kiss Richie, cradling his jaw in his hand. He can just barely make out his face, in the darkness, but he smiles when he sees Richie’s smiling, too.

* * *

The cruise day was their last big planned activity. The rest of the days are just for relaxing, Richie tells him, and he’s got one beach day planned. They do that the day before they leave, the air tipping up over eighty degrees as they finally hit July. Richie sits in the passenger seat and directs Eddie so he can drive the Spider a little more before the end of their trip, and Richie just sings loudly as they fly along the coastal road to Perivolos Beach.

Eddie drives until they find a long stretch of beach without anybody else on it. They park just next to the rocks; Richie carries the chairs they took from the hotel down to the sand while Eddie scoops up their bags to follow.

Even though there’s not a soul in sight, they lay their towels right next to each other on the sand, anyways. Eddie pulls the sunscreen out of his bag and puts it on himself before he directs Richie to lay down on his stomach so he can apply it to his back.

“You’d get sun poisoning and die if it wasn’t for me, you know,” Eddie tells him, spreading his hands across the span of Richie’s back, across his shoulder blades. He digs into the muscle, making it just as much massage as it is sunscreen application, working the knots out of his back. Richie just buries his face in his arms and lets him do it.

Richie’s skin is sun-flushed and pink under his dark hair. When Eddie works down to the small of his waist and his back, he starts getting hard; by the time he’s finished and needs Richie to flip over onto his back, he’s almost fully there, his cock trapped by the confines of his bathing suit.

“Okay, turn,” Eddie says, leaning up and off his thighs so Richie can shift and turn under him. He lays out on his back, shimmying with his hands beneath his head as he grins up at Eddie, his oversized sunglasses taking up most of his freckled, stubble-shadowed face.

“Hello there, Mr. Kaspbrak,” Richie murmurs, when he feels Eddie’s hard dick brush his thigh. Eddie grips Richie’s hot cock through his bathing suit in response, wrapping his hand around the base through the fabric. Richie bucks up into him.

“Hello to you, Mr. Kaspbrak,” Eddie replies. Richie huffs a laugh.

“Why would I change my name?” Richie asks. “You don’t wanna be a Tozier?”

“And spend the rest of my life spelling my name out?”

“Because  _ Kaspbrak  _ is simpler,” Richie retorts. Eddie retaliates by squirting sunscreen from the bottle directly onto Richie’s chest, and he yelps as the cold cream hits his skin. “We could hyphenate. Like the kids.”

“Not a bad idea.” Eddie smoothes the sunscreen over his chest. He rubs it in, vigorous, working through the muscles inch by inch.

Richie’s eyes slip shut behind his sunglasses as Eddie covers him in the sunscreen. He makes sure to get his legs, too, and up his thighs under the hems of his swim shorts. When he twists back around, Richie’s staring lazily up at him, his face flushed. Eddie grabs the bottle again and squeezes out just a little bit out, spreading it across his fingers before he scrubs it into Richie’s face, knocking his sunglasses back.

“Shut your eyes,” Eddie instructs, and Richie does, squeezing them closed, his whole face scrunching up. Eddie runs his thumbs along the lines of his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his nose, his jaw. He kisses him, lightly, then works the sunscreen into his ears, too, under his messy wind-blown hair. His own sunscreen-tacky skin sticks to Richie’s as he drags their cocks together through their bathing suits, drawing a long groan out of Richie’s chest.

“Aren’t you worried about the sand?” Richie asks, strangled. Eddie grips him by the hips and kisses the hinge of his jaw. He tastes fake-sweet, with the sunscreen, and salty with sweat. Eddie kisses to his mouth, instead, so he can lick behind his teeth and got the slick, hot taste of Richie’s tongue instead.

When Eddie draws back, he says, “Stay on the towel and there’s nothing to worry about.”

Richie nods vigorously, and Eddie leans back to grab his bag and pull out their container of lube. Once he’s tugged their bathing suits down and out of the way, he settles between Richie’s thighs, pushing his knees up and apart. He bites the sensitive inside of Richie’s thigh, relishing in the whimper it draws from him.

His head bowed, he licks a long line up the velvety skin of Richie’s cock. Richie’s hot on his tongue, and he whines when Eddie mouths at the head, licking around the slit and tasting the salt-slick of his precum. Richie’s hips jerk, but he holds him in place, swallowing his cock down as best as he can while his lube-wet fingers slip into his hole. Richie cries out, loudly, head knocking back into the towels over the sand.

Richie’s cock is huge, too big for him to take at once in his mouth. Instead, he has to relax his throat, and he knows the second Richie feels him do it, because he moans,  _ “Eddie,”  _ low, rumbling out of his chest. Eddie doesn’t waste any time, crooking his two fingers in to push into Richie’s prostate. He inhales sharply, his hand flying down to tangle in Eddie’s hair.

The sharp, thrilling pain of Richie’s hand getting caught on the curls of Eddie’s hair, tugging on his scalp, makes him groan. Richie gasps his name again, as Eddie’s throat tightens and he swallows around his dick. He pulls off to add a third finger. Richie blinks his big blue eyes up at him, then squints, so Eddie reaches up to pull his sunglasses back down before he slips his hand out. He slicks his cock and lines them up.

“I love you,” Richie mumbles, nonsensical and slurred. Eddie pushes in halfway, then fully, just two thrusts until their flesh meets and he’s fully seated. He cups Richie’s face in his hand, smoothing his sweaty hair back and away. Their noses brush, their mouths close enough to share air as Eddie pulls Richie’s leg up over his shoulder, takes him by the hips, and finds a hard, steady rhythm to fuck into him.

The thrill of being out in public, even if they are in total isolation, is overwhelming, for Eddie. He’s achingly hard as he fucks into Richie’s tight heat. Desperately, he searches for his prostate; after a moment, he finds it, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Richie gasps his name, his nails gliding across Eddie’s back as he clings to him. A soft sea-breeze slips up his spine as he meets Richie’s mouth with his own, swallowing his own name.

Eddie wants them to cum as close together as he can, to share this if they can, to  _ feel _ Richie cum on his cock,  _ around  _ his cock. He wraps his slick fingers around Richie’s huge dick. Richie cries out, when Eddie’s skin meets his own oversensitive flesh, and Eddie kisses him through the salt and the sweat and the tears.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, because Richie cries during sex all the time, every time he gets overwhelmed, but Eddie still wants to make sure. Just in case. He won’t have the one time he doesn’t ask be the one time Richie’s actually in pain.

As it is, Richie nods desperately, his hand coming up to guide Eddie’s face back to his so they can keep kissing. He’s losing his rhythm, getting too close to the edge, his muscles tightening and heat coiling low in his abdomen. Richie gasps his name into his mouth again, once he strokes along his prostate, finding it over and over. Their kisses turn sloppy as Richie’s jaw goes slack, his back arching up as Eddie twists his wrist on his dick, jerking him off hard and fast.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs, low and hot. He leans up, finding a better angle, jerking him off with one hand and holding him tight in place with his other hand as fucks him. “I got you, Richie, I got you, I love you—”

“I love you,” Richie echoes, then cums, clenching tight around Eddie’s dick as he paints both of their chests. Eddie keeps fucking him with his fist as he stills inside him, letting Richie come sliding down from his high, chest heaving. Richie reaches down to him, cupping Eddie’s face in his hand. Eddie leans in to kiss Richie’s inner thigh again.  _ “Fucking  _ shit.”

“I love you,” Eddie repeats. Richie pulls at his shoulder, urging him to keep moving, and so he does. He grabs Richie’s hips in his hands, then gentles his touch, smoothing over Richie’s skin as he fucks into him slow and sweet, his own orgasm rising and cresting just like one of the waves off the shore. He holds Richie’s face in his hand and bows to kiss him as he cums inside him. His breath all punches out at once, but Richie holds him anyways.

When his head finally clears, he strokes Richie’s cheek, wiping the tears away. Richie huffs a wet laugh, turning to kiss Eddie again, their sunglasses pushing together. They both smile. Eddie takes the opportunity to slip out, and Richie yelps.

“I gotcha,” Eddie tells him. Richie flicks him in the cheek. Eddie tugs Richie’s bathing suit up, then his own, drawing them both to their feet.

“Where are we going?” Richie asks. Eddie pulls their sunglasses off, tossing them to their towels before he tugs Richie towards the shore.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, and guides him into the water. There’s a drop-off, a little ways out, and Eddie dives in there, dunking his head underwater and coming up in seconds, whipping his hair back out of his eyes. Richie’s grinning at him, when his eyes are clear.

“I can’t see a fucking thing,” Richie says gleefully. He steps forward, closer to Eddie, and slips off the drop-off. Eddie swims forward to hoist him up as he sputters, coughing water up out of his lungs. Once they’re both standing again, Eddie cups Richie’s face in his hands.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Eddie tells him. Richie scoffs, lifting his head and beginning to make some purposefully foolish comment in reply, but Eddie just tugs him back down and kisses him. The water’s warm around their waists, lapping gently into their chests in lazy waves. Richie’s broad hands close hot and tight over Eddie’s hips.

“I’m gonna miss being here,” Richie tells him, when they’re back on the sand, stretched out in the late afternoon sun. Eddie’s reading from his book — one of Bill’s, and he’s not loving it, but they all promised they’d read it and Richie’s nearly done with his copy. He’s been watching, from the corner of his eye, Richie laid out in the sun. When he looks up now, Richie’s turned onto his side, his face propped up in his hand.

“Me, too,” Eddie replies. “When’s our flight tomorrow?”

“Early,” Richie tells him. “Once the sun goes down, I’ll drive us back to the hotel.”

“Mm.” Eddie bookmarks his spot and sets the book aside to lay on his own side, cheek in his hand. “We could move here.”

Richie laughs, loud and unexpected. “Move the kids out here and everything? Teach ‘em Greek?”

“No,” Eddie says.

“No?” Richie asks.

“No, fuck the kids,” Eddie tells him, grinning. Richie laughs again, falling onto his back on his towel. Eddie sits up over him, leaning in to kiss him lightly. When he pulls back, Richie blows a kiss up at him, then lifts his sunglasses up so Eddie can see his lecherous wink. Eddie just smacks him on the chest and flops back down on his own towel.

“Fuck the kids,” Richie repeats. He laughs into his hands, scrubbing at his face before he looks over at Eddie again. “I can take you more places. If you want to go places.”

“I don’t want to stay because I want to be somewhere different,” Eddie says. “I want to stay because I want to be with  _ you.” _

Richie stares at him from behind his sunglasses. After a moment, he sniffles.

“Are you crying?” Eddie demands.

“No—”

_ “Are you crying—” _

“Shut up,” Richie exclaims, rolling over onto his other side. Eddie shuffles onto his towel instead, turning his face with a hand on his chin. They kiss softly, then.

“I like spending time with you,” Eddie tells him, because Richie apparently needs to hear it. “I like to be alone with you. I love you more than anything, Rich, you gotta know that. I’ll marry you every ten years for the rest of our lives if it’ll prove it.”

“I’d marry you every fucking  _ day,  _ if I could,” Richie says. He turns onto his back and opens his arms, lets Eddie spread across his chest and kiss underneath his chin. “That’s a great idea, actually. Can I marry you every day?”

“I think that’s just what marriage is,” Eddie replies. Richie hums a little, then kisses the top of his head.

The sun sets, shortly after that. They’re the only ones on the beach as it goes down, filling the sky with swelling waves of purple and pink and galaxy-black, swirling stars and the bloated moon, finally full and hanging heavy in the sky. Eddie can see Richie’s face perfectly in the bright moonlight reflected off his features.

They kiss in the sand, just for a while longer, before Richie packs their stuff up and carries it to their car for them. Then, he comes back for Eddie, hauling him up over his shoulder and carrying him to their car, too, the both of them laughing the whole way until Richie dumps Eddie over the door ledge into the passenger seat.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, Richie’s still asleep beside him, curled up on his side with his knees bent and tucked up and his hand loosely tangled in Eddie’s hair. Eddie smoothes his hand over Richie’s chest, gently, running his fingers down over his heart. He can feel its even pulse beneath his fingertips.

He slides his palm down to Richie’s belly, then shuffles closer, slotting his leg between Richie’s. Their ankles tangle together as Eddie kisses Richie’s chin, then the sharp line of his jaw. Richie blinks, then squints.

“That you, Eds?” Richie asks. “Or is it—”

“I’ll divorce you,” Eddie warns, and Richie shuts his mouth. Eddie never finds out what else he was going to say, because it’s then that Richie realizes they’ve woken up late and they have to rush to get their stuff together. Eddie drives them back to the airport, after they’ve checked out of the hotel, for one last ride driving the Spider, and it’s just as exhilarating as the first time.

Richie whoops in the passenger seat, standing up as the wind slides through his hair. He’s more relaxed, freer than he was when they first arrived. Eddie feels more relaxed, too, and he feels even better after he sleeps through nearly their entire plane ride home.

When they land back at Logan Airport, Stan and Patty are waiting to give them a ride home. Logan and Hannah come running at them, as soon as they see them. Richie drops his bags and falls to his knees to catch them both, scooping them up and spinning them around, kissing them each on their cheeks.

“Oh, I missed you two so much,” Richie tells them excitedly. Eddie goes to his side, taking Hannah from him and kissing Logan on the cheek himself. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” Stan says. Richie laughs, even though Stan’s not smiling, but all that does is make Stan finally crack a grin and hug them both. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Eddie replies. Patty hugs him from the side, and Hannah drops her head down on his shoulder, hugging her arms tight around his neck. Eddie misses the island, but it’s fucking  _ good _ to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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